


Fair Warning

by MarianneGreenleaf



Series: Got My Foot Caught in the Door [7]
Category: The Music Man (1962), The Music Man - All Media Types, The Music Man - Willson
Genre: Becoming The Mask, Courtship is the best ship, Defrosting Ice Queen, Edwardian era, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Fluff with depth, Ladykiller In Love, Library Shenanigans, Missing Scene, Passion vs Propriety, Pre-Relationship, Still a conman, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, gorgeous gowns, nonstandard format, rumors and things, trouble with a capital t
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:48:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26107468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarianneGreenleaf/pseuds/MarianneGreenleaf
Summary: Marian Paroo steels herself for a frank chat with the music professor regarding her brother. Or, why Harold Hill takes it upon himself to deliver Winthrop’s cornet to him personally.
Relationships: Harold Hill/Marian Paroo
Series: Got My Foot Caught in the Door [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1383457
Kudos: 1





	1. Hope

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to experiment with second person present tense, from Marian Paroo’s point of view. This vignette takes place in between [The Rose Garden](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19140517/chapters/45489826) and [An Impromptu Stroll](https://archiveofourown.org/works/519615).

_Hope smiles from the threshold of the year to come, whispering ‘it will be happier.’_  
_~Alfred Lord Tennyson_

XXX

You look at yourself in the mirror to assess your appearance, ignoring the unsettling jolt in the pit of your stomach as you catch sight of your flushed cheeks and bright eyes. You have _business_ to complete, and a proper lady does not procrastinate.

To steel yourself for the unpleasant task ahead, you run through the ever-present checklist in your mind:

You took great care to wear your smartest navy-blue dress with the buttons up the side of the skirt. Not to be pretty, but to be formidable.

You made sure your sleeves are rolled all the way down and your collar is buttoned tight all the way up to your chin. Even though it is eighty-five degrees this afternoon and you’re already starting to perspire.

Finally, you made sure there are no loose curls dangling from your chignon. This is not the time to appear yieldingly feminine. The brim of the navy-blue hat you selected is wide enough to conceal a blush and tapers to harsh, pointed angles to warn away would-be suitors. It is entirely unadorned with flowers, feathers, ribbon, or any other frills that would suggest flirtation.

Armor thus adorned, you leave the house without even telling Mama what you’re up to. When you find Harold Hill loitering on the sidewalk in front of the library – he looks so infuriatingly _casual_ about it, but you know very well what he’s up to – you march right up to him, not caring who sees you in his company.

“Mister Hill,” you say in your primmest voice, “thank you for returning my parasol yesterday afternoon.” You don’t mention the dethorned rose that’s now in your porcelain keepsake jar, because it’s far too dangerous to go down _that_ road. “But I must inform you that you are still banned from Madison Public Library.”

He looks you carefully up and down, and you feel a blush rise to your cheeks as you perceive the admiration in his eyes. He doesn’t dare compliment your gown like he did at the picnic, but it is clear from the way he looks at your ensemble that he certainly appreciates you in it. More than that, he looks at you as if you are a beautiful, untouchable goddess – no man has ever gazed at you with such reverence in the midst of his wanting. So when those warm, twinkling eyes finally meet yours, you can’t look away, though you school your expression to be as unforgiving as the angles of your hat.

When he speaks, it’s in a soft, penitent voice that deftly pierces your armor: “I really hurt you, haven’t I, Miss Marian?”

Your breath hitches in your throat and your eyes widen, because you can’t deny that he has. And you can hardly believe _your_ eyes: is that genuine remorse in Harold Hill’s expression?

Indeed, it seems to be: “I’m sorry,” he offers. “I’ll stay away from both you and the library from now on.”

This, you do not believe. No man has ever said sorry to you for his ribald remarks or his ungentlemanly liberties. You don’t know what to do with this, so you glare at this seasoned street mountebank, waiting for the trick to reveal itself.

Unsettlingly, Harold Hill looks at you as if he knows exactly what you’re thinking, and as if you’ve somehow pierced _his_ armor, even though you’ve done nothing but stand there and look down at him like a haughty ice queen (you know exactly what they think of you in River City and while it hurts, it’s safer to allow them to believe this lie). “I can’t remember the last time I apologized to someone and meant it. And if you don’t believe me, Marcellus Washburn could back me up on that.” To your shock, he turns a little red, too.

You feel that dangerous, delicious tingle run through you again, and you can’t stop yourself from asking, though frostily, “And what makes _me_ so deserving of such consideration, Mister Hill?”

“I like you,” he says, without a single note of the grand and bombastic flash with which he presents to a crowd.

You ought to be furious. But you aren’t. Because there is real kindness and regard in his voice, and you know that he is telling the truth for once. Even though you don’t like him in return, it’s the one phrase you’ve never heard anyone in River City say to you, the one phrase you were never prepared to hear from any man. So you do the one thing you promised yourself you never would: you look at Harold Hill and smile.

But you can’t let down your guard too much. A tiger at rest is still a tiger, and he will pounce if you are so foolish as to turn your back to him. So you muzzle that smile before it reaches your eyes and say coolly, “I appreciate your apology, Mister Hill, but your ban cannot be lifted with a few pretty speeches. There must be real atonement behind your words.”

To your surprise, he doesn’t attempt to argue, wheedle, or persuade you to be lenient. Instead, he gives you the most solemn and intent look you’ve ever seen. Your breath hitches in your throat again – Harold Hill’s entire force of will focused on _you_ is truly a breathtaking thing. “What would you like me to do?” he asks.

You pretend to consider for a few moments so you don’t seem too anxious or eager, but you already know what you are going to say, as this was your entire aim of seeking the would-be music professor out in the first place. “It really doesn’t matter to me whether you disgrace my feelings” – you speak this lie so glibly that you almost believe it – “but if you break my brother’s heart, you’ll regret the day you ever set foot in River City. So if Winthrop takes to his new cornet, consider your library visiting privileges reinstated.”

Harold Hill grins at you, not with that arrogant sense of triumph you’ve always detested, but with the endearing elation of a man who’s been granted a second chance. “Fair enough, Madam Librarian.”

Before you can be drawn into further conversation, you nod politely and continue on your way. You walk up to the library double doors as demure as ever, but you can feel his eyes on you all the way up. When you turn at the door to give him one final nod, you see he’s still looking at you with that strange soft affection, and your heart hammers wildly. But still, there’s no triumphant beam – he simply doffs his hat and bounds off to his next escapade.

You know full well that Harold Hill can’t read a note of music and that he’ll never be able to make good on his promise. But for once, you find yourself hoping that he’ll actually succeed in his pie-in-the-sky endeavor of establishing a boys’ band in River City – if only for your beloved brother’s sake. You do not dare to think what the music professor’s success would potentially mean for you.


	2. Luck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever, Harold’s perspective wanted in on this story!

_He’s Houdini, he’s Scheherazade, he’s all the escape artists of history and fiction rolled into one. He’s lucky beyond all imagining. But here’s the thing about luck: it runs out._  
_~Frank Bruni, New York Times_

XXX

You’re not at all ashamed to admit you want Marian Paroo, but you didn’t expect to like her. You didn’t expect to like her so much that you not only meant your apology, you told her why you apologized in the first place.

That’s a little _too_ dangerous, even for you. So you return to the kind of danger you’re much more comfortable contemplating when wooing a gorgeous woman: the delectably formidable way she looked in her crisp navy-blue dress with matching angular hat as she bargained for her brother’s happiness, and the deliciously delicate way she looks now in her charcoal gray skirt and embroidered ivory blouse.

Her chignon is also much less pulled back today, and you appreciate the loose curls that frame her beautiful face just as much as you liked the way the pointed tilt of her hat beckoned you to flirt with her. You’d really like to wrap your fingers in those curls as you unpin the rest of her golden hair. Whether the librarian is soft or severe in appearance, she makes your breath hitch in your throat and your cock hard, and someday soon, you’re going to let her discover those things about you.

Because you’ve won, of course, just like you always do. Marian Paroo may have banned you from the library last week, but here you sit on a bench right by her desk. Not only does she _not_ object to your presence, she seems to welcome it, if the small smile that perks up her kissable crimson lips is any indication.

The library is largely empty today, but as you gaze fondly at the librarian while she peruses her pile of papers, the corner of your eye catches Tommy Djilas ensconced in an out-of-the-way corner with Zaneeta Shinn, tucked cozily behind the oversize copy of _Romeo and Juliet_. They’re grinning at you with smiles that are both knowing and sympathetic – they feel all too well the sting of an infatuation denied when they see it. In return, you give them a friendly wink and turn your attention firmly back to the librarian. You are confident that your infatuation won’t be denied much longer.

While you haven’t quite made good on your promise to teach Winthrop the cornet, the boy was so elated when you handed him the shiny horn that the librarian forgave you completely. Although she allowed you to walk her to the library that afternoon, you didn’t press your luck by trying to enter the building, even though you probably could have. Instead, you waited a whole day before you dared to set foot on the premises, and you were ridiculously delighted when Marian Paroo greeted you with a warm smile. And your delight only increased when her smile didn’t fade, not even when she finally looked back to her work.

It’s the most pleasant and companionable silence you’ve ever shared with a woman, and for once, you don’t feel the need to fill the room. Instead, you reach for the nearest book on the table – _Great Expectations_ , as it turns out – and begin to read.

While the book isn’t half-bad, your mind wanders far too easily in the lovely librarian’s presence. Soon, you find yourself merely pretending to read while thinking feverishly about the tryst to come. You consider the well-hidden alcove you’ve scouted out in Madison Picnic Park and just how perfect it is for concealing such a romp, as if it was tailor-made for outdoor mischief. You wonder what gorgeous gown she’ll be wearing when you finally take her there, and how much fun it will be to remove it from her. You think about all the scandalously indecent ways you’ll make love to her with your hands, mouth, and cock, and all the exquisitely wicked ways she’ll pleasure you in return.

But before any of that, you plan to take the librarian to the footbridge first, to give her a little old-fashioned romance before the final seduction. For some reason, this part of the scheme makes your heart palpitate in the oddest rhythm and you feel the strangest sense of wistful apprehension. You know full well this most innocent of gestures is the most dangerous thing you’re going to do with her – because you’d be selling past the close at that point, something no salesman worth his salt should ever do – but you’re going to do it anyway because you truly _do_ like her.

You do not dare to think what it would mean for your venture in River City if Marian Paroo has actually fallen in love with you.


End file.
